


Let Me Go

by Vizkopa



Category: One Piece
Genre: Angst, Break Up, F/M, GenderNeutral!Reader, Hurt, M/M, Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-18 05:21:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14846597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vizkopa/pseuds/Vizkopa
Summary: It was not your first venture into the quiet hours of the morning to drive your drunk boyfriend home. Well… ex-boyfriend now...





	Let Me Go

It must have been three in the morning when your phone rang, the display screen lighting up the darkness with its obnoxious ring tone. You groaned and fumbled to answer it, your voice slow and raspy with sleep.

“Hello?”

“[Name], I’m sorry to ask, but Zoro’s here at the bar and he’s been drinking and well… he got into a fight. Can you come and pick him up?”

You pulled the phone away from your ear momentarily to squint at the screen. “Nami, it three o’clock in the morning, can’t you take him?”

“He’s asking for you.”

You sighed. “Alright, I’ll be there soon.”

It was not your first venture into the quiet hours of the morning to drive your drunk boyfriend home. Well… ex-boyfriend now. It had been barely a month since the two of you had broken up but he hadn’t changed one bit. 

You sighed as you pulled into the dark parking lot of the bar. The sign on the door said ‘closed’ but you knew it would be open and you let yourself in. Zoro was seated at the bar, bickering with Nami over a bottle of _sake_. They both fell silent and looked up when they heard the door swing open.

You gave Zoro an unimpressed look and jerked your head toward the door. “Come on, time to go home.”

He didn’t argue and followed you obediently to the car, Nami mouthing ‘I owe you one!’ as you left. Boy, did she ever. Driving your drunk, ex-boyfriend home was not what you wanted to be doing at 3:30am on a Saturday night.

You drove in silence, watching him from the corner of your eye. His face was bloody, a bruise beginning to blossom around the cut on his cheekbone, but it didn’t seem to bother him. He just stared out of the window until you pulled into the visitor’s parking space in front of his apartment building.

A sigh of disappointment left him, as if he was expecting something different. As if he was hoping you’d take him to your place, the apartment you had shared for the last two years. Home. But not anymore.

“Come on,” you said. “I need to clean that cut before it gets infected.”

You sat him down on the edge of the bath tub as you cleaned and dressed the cut under his eye. He didn’t complain, only hummed a bit at the touch of your hand as you wiped away the dried blood with a damp cloth. It took all your willpower not to caress his cheek, to run your fingers through his hair, to press your lips to the wound as you once would have. If you had been a weaker person, your body would surely have betrayed you.

As you pulled back, Zoro caught your wrist and looked at you with a startlingly sober expression. His eyes flickered down to your lips and before you knew what was happening, he was leaning in to kiss you. You almost gave in, eyes fluttering closed to accept the press of his warm lips against yours, but the smell of _sake_ on his breath jolted you back to reality.

You jerked back, standing up so fast your head spun. He looked up at you, stunned.

“I knew this was a bad idea. I should go.”

“Wait!” His hand caught your arm again. “Stay.”

“I can’t.”

“Please.”

“Zoro… we can’t keep doing this. We’re not together anymore.”

“Why not?” He sounded indignant. Like a child.

You sighed. “Because we just don’t… _work_.”

“We could have made it work.”

That was it. You couldn’t take any more of it. “I tried, Zoro!” you snapped. “I tried _so hard_ to make this work but you—!” You lowered your voice, suddenly mindful of the neighbours on three sides of the tiny apartment. “You couldn’t meet me halfway. Simple as that.”

He said nothing. Your words had rendered him silent.

You were turning to leave when he finally spoke, his voice barely audible in the small bathroom. 

“I still love you.”

Your instincts were to respond with ‘I love you, too’ but you bit back the words. It would only complicate things in the end.

“Don’t call me again,” you said instead, voice breaking. “It only makes it hurt more.”

You walked away without looking back, and only when you closed the apartment door behind you did you let the tears fall. With your back to the door, you slid to the ground, your legs suddenly too weak to stand on.

And you cried.


End file.
